She had fought, but one blow of his ax had stunned her. Beyond this, she remembered nothing.
Allan sought and quickly found the aperture made by the smith through the limestone.
“Evidently he'd been planning this coup for a long time,” thought he. “The great catastrophe of the land-slide broke the last bonds of order and restraint, and gave him his opportunity. Well, it's his last villainy! I'll have this passageway cemented up. That's all the monument he'll ever get. It's more than he deserves!”
He returned to Beatrice. The girl still lay there, moaning a little in her fevered sleep. Allan watched her in anguish.
“Oh, if she should die--if she should die!” thought he, and felt the sweat start on his forehead. “She must not! She can't! I won't let her!”
A touch on his arm aroused him from his vigil. Turning, he saw Gesafam.
“The child, O Kromno, hungers. It is crying for food!” Allan thought. He saw at once the impossibility of letting the boy come near its mother. Some other arrangement must be made.
“Ah!” thought he. “I have it!”
He gestured toward the door.
“Go,” he commanded. “Go up the path, to the palisaded place. Take this rope. Bring back, with you a she-goat. Thus shall the child be fed!”